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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28731912">Claiming today</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellmel/pseuds/Bellmel'>Bellmel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angsty romance or romantic angst?, Canon Compliant, F/M, Mope and elope</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:28:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,908</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28731912</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellmel/pseuds/Bellmel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>‘I’ve been asking myself why we haven’t done it yet, why we thought we have to wait all these months. We’ve planned it like we have all the time in the world, but I realised that we don’t know that – not for sure.’ </p><p>Tired of being constrained by expectations and demands, Ginny decides it’s time to do things their way.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Claiming today</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you to accio-broom and FloreatCastellum for their beta help :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There are four healers and two trainees on each shift. Handover is at 6am, 2pm and 10pm. Potions are administered every two hours around the clock, and the leniency of visiting hours varies depending on who is stationed on reception (Gillian is willing to turn a blind eye, Rhonda won’t consider it).</p><p>Nobody has told her as much, of course, but in the three days since she first arrived at the hospital, Ginny has become well versed in the operations of the Janus Thickey Ward at St Mungo’s. It’s not information she has ever cared to know, yet here she is – an unwilling expert who has evidently spent too much time watching from the background.</p><p>“As you can see, the concentrated poultice has assisted the healing thanks to the addition of lichen,” Healer Prasad explains dryly to this morning’s pair of trainees. “The scar damage typically seen from curses such as the one sustained by the patient has been minimised somewhat through prompt treatment and application of sustained healing balms.”</p><p>In the back corner of the room, Ginny shifts uncomfortably in the chair, her body stiff from fatigue and inactivity. It’s always the same when the healers or ward staff arrive to check on Harry or administer his potions. They swarm over to him, hovering over their patient from all sides, and she is pushed to the back of the room. It’s no different when the Aurors drop by to update Harry on their (so far fruitless) investigations into the attack. Each time, she’s relegated to the sidelines like a bit player. It’s not a position she has ever willingly tolerated.</p><p>Harry’s dedicated team of senior healers has been working around the clock to treat him, meaning opportunities for them to be alone together are infrequent and all too brief. This level of care is a privilege reserved for Harry Potter alone, and if it wasn’t for the healers’ immediate and skilled intervention when he was first brought in three days ago, she likely would have lost him. She knows this with a sickening and haunting certainty. But it doesn’t stop an unbidden hint of resentment rising in her each time they enter Harry’s room, and she is forced to yet again step away from his side. She hasn’t allowed herself to openly admit that it bothers her. Because what kind of person does this make her? Someone who could begrudge the very people who saved the man she loves? Someone who feels unending gratitude to these people, but wishes they would fuck off all the same?</p><p>It’s a feeling that isn’t entirely foreign to her. She has been here before, sitting in this chair (and so has Harry, after a couple of her more brutal matches). She knows what comes next – the press, the colleagues, the well-meaning friends and adoring strangers. There will be speculation, questions, requests and demands, and he will be expected to give even more of himself. Their unwelcome attention and adoration come with a cost that he is expected to pay. It is a debt that will never be settled.</p><p>Finally, with a farewell nod towards Harry, the healers file out of the room. Ginny rises and walks over to his bed, sinking into the chair next to him and tucking her legs underneath her. Harry shifts in the bed and turns his head towards her, smiling softly. Even this small gesture takes a visible effort as he fights to stay awake. He has paled since the healers arrived and he strains to focus on her. It tends to happen each time the healers finish their visits, their examinations and procedures depleting him of the little energy he has.</p><p>Ginny leans forward and kisses Harry gently on the forehead, her lips lingering for a moment on the warmth of his skin, before settling back down into her chair. By the time she looks back up, his eyes are closed, his breathing even.</p><p>She stays there, allowing herself to take all of him in – the reassuring gentle movement of his chest, the familiar tangle of hair falling onto his forehead, the feel of his fingers intertwined with hers.</p><p>She knows it won’t last, but in these blessedly quiet moments she is reminded of what it’s like to be just Harry and Ginny. To be unguarded, honest and at ease. While he’s asleep she can pretend the press haven’t set up camp in the waiting area of St Mungo’s, the hospital staff seeming to have all but given up on their attempts to move them along. In here, she can fool herself into believing that he’s just Harry. Her Harry.</p><p>Because out there, he’s anything but.</p><p>After almost an hour, Harry’s head shifts and his eyes flutter open. Some colour has returned to his cheeks and his gaze is more focused.</p><p>“Hi,” he whispers, his voice hoarse.</p><p>“Hi,” she smiles back.</p><p>He stares at her for a moment before clearing his throat. “Please tell me you’ve at least been home at some stage for a rest,” he says, his eyes narrow, brow creasing in concern – a look she’s not unaccustomed to seeing on his face.</p><p>“Sure,” she smirks. “I can tell you that if you like.”</p><p>He shakes his head gently, his smile making it clear that he expected nothing else from her.</p><p>“Nah, I like the food too much here,” she retorts casually. “Don’t want to miss out.”</p><p>He raises an eyebrow in mock accusation. “Been pinching my food have you?”</p><p>“Only the good stuff. I’ve been sure to leave you the more questionable offerings.” She nods towards the abandoned tray on the other side of his bed.</p><p>“Now I know you’re lying. None of it’s good.”</p><p>She tilts her head slightly, looking at him with a somewhat bemused expression. “I think you’re forgetting how shit my cooking is, Potter.”</p><p>“So that’s why you’re here, is it? Want to make sure I’ll pull through and come home in time to cook you dinner?” He is looking at her with that mix of affection and amusement that she long ago decided was her favourite of his expressions.</p><p>“Duh. A girl can’t survive on cereal alone.”</p><p>“I reckon you’d give it a good crack though.”</p><p>“Prat,” she smirks.</p><p>The familiar levity of their banter eases into a relaxed silence. They sit there for several minutes, enjoying a rare moment of peace that not even the persistent, rhythmic beep of the monitoring charms can spoil. Ginny is still clasping his hand in one of hers, finding comfort in the way his fingers lace through hers with a reassuring warmth and familiarity. With her other hand, she absentmindedly fiddles with the diamond-studded band adorning her finger.</p><p>Days of the week and time have little relevance here. It’s a strange feeling considering calendars have dictated their lives for so long. Their crammed schedules and inconsistent working hours have made it difficult to carve out time for each other these past couple of years. While the chaos of The Burrow and the entertaining banter of nights out with friends is something neither of them would ever bemoan, the time they have to themselves is undoubtedly their favourite. But those opportunities aren’t a given. They often have to be fought for and guarded with an insistent determination.</p><p>Breaking out of her reverie, Ginny looks up to see Harry staring expectantly at her, waiting for her to speak.</p><p>“Harry…” she starts, unsure how to put words to her thoughts. She looks at him a moment while he returns her gaze, waiting patiently for her to continue. With a deep breath, she blurts it out.</p><p>“Harry, I want to get married.”</p><p>His eyes narrow as he looks at her in confusion. His gaze slowly shifts to the ring on her finger before looking back up at her. She is watching him closely, assessing<br/>
his reaction. His hesitation does nothing to reassure her.</p><p>“Er, I thought we’d already agreed on that.” He looks so baffled, and it dawns on Ginny that her sudden confession might be leading him to question the curse’s impact on his memory.</p><p>“I know… We did,” she stammers, quick to reassure him. “It’s just… I don’t want to wait, Harry. Sitting here, I’ve been asking myself why we haven’t done it yet, why we thought we have to wait all these months. We’ve planned it like we have all the time in the world, but I realised that we don’t know that – not for sure. So why are we waiting?” Harry continues to look at her, his expression giving nothing away.</p><p>“You won’t be going back to work anytime soon,” she says in a rush, continuing before he has a chance to interrupt. “And I still have a few weeks before pre-season training starts. There’s no reason we can’t do it as soon as you’re well enough.” Refusing to look away, she keeps her expression still as she watches him mull it over, carefully considering his response.</p><p>“Ginny,” he sighs. There is a tinge of regret and something like annoyance in the way he says her name, making her wince. “We can’t organise a wedding in a couple of weeks.”</p><p>“But that’s the thing! We don’t have to organise anything! We can just get married.”</p><p>He looks at her with a mix of guilt and remorse, like he hates himself for yet again forcing her to make sacrifices because of him. But can’t he see this isn’t a sacrifice at all? Can’t he see that this isn’t about her giving something up, but rather taking what she wants?</p><p>He closes his eyes for a moment and his face betrays his inner turmoil. She knows he is lamenting what being with him means, that he can’t give her a normal wedding, a normal life.</p><p>“Ginny, I just…” he sighs, looking at her again. His unfinished words hang heavy and she feels the weight of it sink inside her.</p><p>“You don’t want to–” she begins, recoiling slightly. The prospect stings, but Harry doesn’t let her finish.</p><p>“Merlin, no! Ginny, you know I would marry you right here and now if that’s what you wanted, ridiculous gown and all,” he says in a rush, gesturing to his hospital-issued garment. “But I don’t want you to miss out on a wedding, just because some asshole wanted to be rid of me.”<br/>
Is that what he thinks this is about? That that’s all it is?</p><p>She leans forward, her voice sharp with a determined intensity. “But I don’t want a wedding! I don’t want all the fanfare, all the flowers and poncy decorations. And I definitely don’t want hundreds of people,” she grimaces.</p><p>“I want you, Harry. Just you.” He looks at her sceptically and she takes a deep breath, straightening up. “Of all things, <em>this</em> should be about us – be <em>up </em>to us. There’s no–”</p><p>“Knock knock,” a cheery voice calls from the doorway.</p><p>Ginny rolls her eyes as a stout ward witch saunters into the room, not bothering to wait for permission before entering. She acknowledges Ginny with the briefest flick of her eyes before settling a trio of potions on the table beside Harry’s bed. Harry’s curt greeting and replies do little to hurry her along, while she repeats the instructions for each potion as if he hasn’t already heard them a dozen times. She lingers for a few moments to clear away his things in an unwelcome attempt to be helpful, before finally bidding Harry farewell and waving behind her as she walks out of the room, humming happily.</p><p>Ginny turns back to Harry and continues as if they hadn’t been interrupted. “I can’t keep doing this, Harry!” she says, her voice cracking with barely contained frustration. “I can’t keep sharing you! I <em>need</em> to have something that’s just ours. <em>We</em> need to have something that’s just ours. Don’t we at least deserve that?”</p><p>“But what about your family? Our friends?”</p><p>“Sod the lot of them!” He raises his eyebrows at her. “Fine, a little harsh maybe,” she concedes. “They’ll understand – maybe not straight away, but they’ll come around. We can have a party later, celebrate with everyone then.” Which would surely be far more enjoyable than what they were expected to do anyway.</p><p>“I want this, Harry,” she sighs. “I really do. But I need you to be on board. If you’re not, if you don’t want… then I’ll understand, I’ll drop it without another word. But don’t say no out of some misguided need to please everyone else, or because you think I’m… I’m missing out or something.” She feels a desperate need to do this, to claim this thing as their own.</p><p>But he needs to want it too.</p><p>He looks at her a moment, his face unmoving, his eyes never leaving hers. She realises she is holding her breath, knowing she needs to give him the choice but terrified all the same of the choice he might make.</p><p>“Ginny,” he says, and although he is weak, his voice is anything but. It is determined and thick with intent. “I want this too.”</p><p>She looks at him for a moment, forcing the full weight of his words to sink in before allowing herself to react. “You do?” Her voice catches.</p><p>He focuses on her, his eyes penetrating. Slowly, certainly, he nods his head and smiles.</p><p>She lets out a short laugh of relief and elation. “So… we’re doing this?”</p><p>He nods his head again, his smile only widening. “I guess we are.”</p><p>***</p><p>The day is overcast. The clouds sit low, smudges of grey and white crisscrossing the sky, allowing only the briefest slivers of sunlight to pierce the coverage.</p><p>They barely notice.</p><p>Ginny’s face is turned out towards the water, her forearms propped up on the high benchtop bar as she leans into it. Her eyes are closed, her feet partially blanketed by the fine sand, her lips turned up slightly into a contented smile.</p><p>It’s a Tuesday, and despite being a year-round favourite with muggle holiday-goers, the beachside bar on the tiny Mediterranean island is relatively quiet this afternoon. They can still hear the distant chatter and laughter of the dozen or so other patrons, but tucked away in the furthest corner of the outdoor bar, the sound is no more than a faint murmur that demands nothing of their attention.</p><p>Taking a slow sip of his Firewhisky, Harry turns towards Ginny, staring unabashedly. It’s usually when Ginny’s lounging at home or in her training gear that he is struck by just how beautiful she truly is. When she’s relaxed and natural – nothing but pure Ginny on display, no make-up or fancy clothes to hide behind. But today, she’s something else.</p><p>Her dress is pure white, the front hem skimming above her knees while the back billows around her calves, framing her athletic legs. She is wearing slightly more make-up than he is used to seeing on her, and her hair is pinned up, rather than hanging loose or tied in a simple ponytail. Still, he can confidently say that he has never seen her look more beautiful than she does right now. And perhaps it is the dress, or the hair, or all of it. But really, he thinks it’s much more than that. That she is wearing this, is standing here, for him. Because of him. Because she loves him.</p><p>For decades to come, there will be photos on their wall of this day. Of them, of her, of that dress. When he looks at the photo, he will see this moment. And this is really what it means. When he looks at her in that dress, he sees a moment that will be a timeless constant in their future. A swell of appreciation, awe and disbelief washes over him, and he breathes in deep, welcoming it.</p><p>With a sigh, Ginny opens her eyes and turns around, her back leaning against the bench. She shows no hint of surprise to find Harry staring so openly at her.</p><p>“So. Mr Potter,” she murmurs, meeting his gaze. “Pining after your bachelorhood yet?”</p><p>He smiles at her a moment, taking his time to answer. “No complaints so far. But I think we can both agree that bachelorhood was rather wasted on me,” he confesses.</p><p>“And what about you… Mrs Potter?” He doesn’t bother to hide a smug grin. “No regrets?”</p><p>“Well,” Ginny considers. “I regret that this is empty.” She raises her champagne glass, gesturing to the empty flute. “But parched mouth aside, I don’t really do regrets.”</p><p>“No. You don’t, do you?” He knows all too well that when her mind is made up, she commits to it fully.</p><p>“Well,” she says, straightening up. “As delightful as it is standing out here with you, there is a perfectly luxurious – and gloriously private – room that’s beckoning us. And, I happen to know for a fact, it has more champagne.” Her eyes sparkle with a hint of what she has in mind, and he is perfectly happy to oblige.</p><p>Harry drains the last drops from his tumbler while Ginny retrieves her shoes from the sand, shaking them off. She tucks herself into Harry’s side as he wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her in even closer. Without looking back, they begin the short walk to their room.</p><p>Tomorrow there will be friends, family and colleagues. There will be press, well-wishers and doubters. But not today. Today is theirs.</p>
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